I stared at the amber liquid in the bottle. It almost looked like it was pulsing like a heartbeat in the dim lights of the dive bar.
The stranger across from me poured two fingers into a glass and slid it over to me. He smiled menacingly.
I had lost track of how many rounds into the drinking contest we were. I should never have bragged to him that I could drink him under the table. Now the stakes for the wager had gotten out of control.
“What are we drinking?” I asked.
“This is your spirit,” the Devil replied.

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